


Come to Your Senses

by Graveyard



Series: Praxus Makes Perfect [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alien Culture, Awkward Kissing, Banter, Blushing, Character Development, College, Crying, Cute, Dancing and Singing, Dating, Drunkenness, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Forbidden Love, French Kissing, Gift Giving, Happy Ending, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Neck Kissing, Purring Robots, Romance, Sneaking Around, Worldbuilding, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2014-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 11:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2386328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graveyard/pseuds/Graveyard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Prowl's Praxus, you always arrive on time. You don't forget to bring your books to class. You obey the speed limit. And a wild night out is a cup of energon tea and a slice of oilcake at the café. In Jazz's Praxus, you don't cross bridges when you can explore under them. You seek out the shops that only open at midnight. And you dance on the rooftops when no one's looking. Prowl's Praxus. Jazz's Praxus. This is the story of what happens when these two worlds collide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hear

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for the Prowl x Jazz 7th Anniversary Challenge. Overall it took me two days from start to finish to write, edit, and post this work. I'm pretty proud of it; I didn't think I'd be able to make it in time. If you see any errors or have any questions, please let me know. It might be a bit choppy because of the deadline, but I did my best.

Prowl turned slowly in the blue glow of the helix gardens, sensors dialed up and doorwings wide to catch even the slightest movement. All was still. He did one more sweep to try and see if anyone was there, and when nothing turned up his doors dipped in resignation and he turned to go.

"Leavin' already?"

Prowl's doors hiked in alarm at the too-close voice and he whipped around, optics wide for any trace of the speaker. There was a moment of silence and stillness before what he had taken to be a patch of crystal and shadow moved and revealed itself to be the one he had come here looking for. The blue visor brightened, lighting up a slag-eating grin. Prowl frowned at it, mouth set in a hard line.

"How did you do that?"

"Sneak up on ya? Well let's just say that if I can't get the drop on some rookie cop-in-training then I couldn't make it in Praxus at all. It's an acquired skill." He sauntered over, easily bursting Prowl's personal bubble as he leaned in and gave Prowl a much closer look at his dazzling smile. "So I see ya took me up on my invitation."

"You made it hard to ignore," Prowl replied with a dismissive flick of his right wing. The mysterious mech laughed at that.

"Your first time bein' serenaded?"

"I don't imagine it's exactly a common occurrence."

"More's the pity," the mech said ruefully. "If I had more time I coulda sung to ya for hours. Inspirational, that's what you are." Prowl was glad for the dim lighting. It hid the way his face flushed at the flattery. "If I had any say in it your name would be Muse."

"I regret to inform you that it is not." The mech laughed at his words.

"Naw, course not. These parts are way too functionist for a name like that. I bet you're called, hm, Chase. Or Detector. Or Prowl. Somethin' along those lines." The mech lit up when Prowl flinched at his words. "Aha, got it, did I? Prowl?" Prowl nodded mutely. "Ha! Good at this game. Want to guess mine?"

"I am less good at this game," Prowl replied with a frown, but the far-too-friendly mech prodded him teasingly.

"C'mon, just give it a shot! No money's on it, so what's the harm if you get it wrong?"

"Hm. Stalker."

"Ouch! Glad you're wrong!"

"Soundwave?"

"Heh, actually know a mech called that. But nope." Prowl wracked his brain. What else did he know about this mech? They hadn't even spoken a proper word to each other until now. All he remembered--

_\--was walking home from class, absorbed in his reading, when he heard a sound he rarely ever heard: music. He looked about wildly. First left. Then right. And finally up. High above him on the wall that bordered the city was a mech perched like a cryo-condor. He was singing a song sweet as a lilleth, apparently at home far above the ground despite his lack of wings. Prowl froze, transfixed by the odd sight, and then the mech tilted his head down and their optics met across the distance. Prowl went rigid, fuel pump hammering. The odd mech smiled, and then began to sing louder. Prowl was surprised to hear that the tune had changed, and when he listened closer he realized the words had too._

_"The crystals glow blue upon midnight,_  
_Away from the watchers in daylight._  
_I'll meet you down there later tonight,_  
_And kiss you there under the moonlight."_

_He'd never heard such a beautiful song, and he listened transfixed as it spun on and on, speaking of things he'd never thought about before. The embrace of a lover. Gentle kisses traded in secret. Whispered promises beneath the stars. The forbidden love between a--_

_Prowl startled. The forbidden love between a Praxian and an outsider. He blushed deeply, wondering if the lyrics were merely coincidental, or if the singer meant something by them. But that was just wishful thinking, wasn't it?_

_The song went on, longer and longer, and Prowl began to lose himself in it. He started to imagine that the singer really was intending these words for him. Love at first sight was a myth, this he knew. But he was young and the appeal was too strong. It was too perfect to imagine that these words were meant for him and him alone._

_The song came to an abrupt, startled halt when a siren cut through the air. A police-bot nearby transformed into a helicopter and flew up toward the singer, shouting at him to get down from there. That it was illegal to cross the wall without identification. The singer laughed and got to his feet, dashing perilously across the top of the wall until he came to a place where he could jump down. He cast one last meaningful look back at Prowl and then disappeared down the other side of the wall. Prowl remained rooted to the spot, too stunned to move._

_Later in his room he'd looked up the lyrics to try and find the song again. Nothing came up. The words had been made up. Prowl tried to bury himself in his textbook in embarrassment, but he found himself too distracted to study. He turned the singer's words over and over in his head, and when the chronometer began to creep toward midnight he slipped out and away under the cover of darkness._

Now here he was, trying to guess the identity of the one who had lured him here when what he really wanted to know was the reason why.

"Charisma."

"Oh, that's a pretty one. But nope. Wanna know what it is?"

"Enlighten me."

"Marshal." Prowl stared blankly. Marshal. In a hundred vorns he never would have guessed that the mech would have a name as common and as Praxian as his own. His stunned look wrung fresh mirth from the mech, who doubled over clutching his middle.

"I know right? Right? But don't worry. I picked a better one. That one can just go rust in the scrapheap for the rest'a eternity. These days I go by Jazz. Better, yeah?"

"Yeah," Prowl said dimly, but then he shook himself. "Wait no, you shouldn't go renaming yourself. It's an affront to your function. Not to mention will contradict your identification card. You do have an identification card don't you?" Prowl suddenly remembered the way the helicopter bot had shouted at him. Was it possible that he was talking to a lost spark? A non-citizen?

"Let's be honest here, when ya snuck out at midnight t'meet me ya weren't exactly expectin' an upstandin' member of society were ya?" But Prowl was shaking his head now and backing away.

"No, no, I can't be seen talking to a lost spark. I could get kicked out of the academy. I can't--I can't be here!" Prowl was trembling all over now, and he nearly tripped over his own feet in an attempt to back away. The stranger made no attempt to follow him, but he did have a strange sad look about him. Almost one of pity.

"Oh sweetspark, I've gone an' frightened ya. I'm sorry. If it helps I'm not a lost spark, alright? I didn't mean to--I didn't think about how bad that would scare ya." Prowl stopped backing up, but he didn't come any closer either. He kept a respectable distance between them now, watching the mech warily. "Here, let me make it up to ya. I've been thinkin' about ya all day, an' this little ditty popped into mah head. I hope ya like it." And then the mech opened his mouth and began to sing.

Almost instantly Prowl was swept up in the wonder of it. The crystals all around him reflected the sound and created an echoing cascade of music. The lyrics came to him in pieces and then shattered again, reflected until they lost all meaning and became a blur of sound. His wings trembled with pleasure as he felt the words vibrate against them, leaving a peculiar tingle in their wake. His optics dimmed as he gave himself over to the sound completely and began to sway as though buffeted by the sound waves. Gradually the music faded away, the last echoes disappearing into the night.

"Well, that was interestin'," the mech--Jazz--observed. "Maybe next time I'll sing to ya where y'can actually hear the lyrics."

"Next time?" Prowl asked cautiously.

"If you'd like," Jazz corrected. Prowl hesitated. He was at once drawn to and wary of this strange mech. He had a dangerous edge to him like a knife, but he'd sheathed it around Prowl. He had been nothing but sweet to him so far, but perhaps it was just an act?

"If I can choose our next meeting place," Prowl said hesitantly. Jazz broke into a wide smile.

"I'd love that."


	2. See

Prowl waited on the well-lit bridge, standing over the mercury river that wound its way dreamily through the city. It was one of the few remaining monuments to the chaos of nature still left in the city. Praxus prided itself on its precise grid of streets, its buildings all at regulation height, and the “air streets” above perfectly mirroring the ones below. Everything was straight, neat, and orderly.

Then there was this river, which cut through the city at random and played havoc on the perfect order that had been created. The first buildings had been built along here, and none of them were at the proper height or width to match the rest of the city. Some were short and wide. Some were so tall they almost interfered with the sky traffic. And some--the worst offenders--weren't even square at all. They were curved to match the river, with inhabitants just as odd and disorderly as their homes. Once upon a time the houses and shops along the river had been brightly coloured, but the city had finally cracked down on that and gotten them all to revert back to uniform grey. It didn't stop people from putting up bright decorations in their windows, though. There was an ongoing battle between the artistic residents and the government about what exactly was freedom of expression and what was just obscene.

Honestly it was the first place Prowl thought of when he had to pick a location to meet Jazz. And thankfully it was still close enough to the heart of the city to be well-lit and within driving distance of the nearest police station if something went wrong. Prowl was rather pleased with his choice.

The only problem was that Jazz had failed to show. The cycles wore on with hardly a soul in sight and Prowl was beginning to weary. He rested his forearms against the railing and leaned out across the river, wondering why he felt so disappointed that things hadn't worked out.

It was then that he caught a flash of blue and he looked down sharply. A bright blue visor cut through the darkness beneath the bridge, looking up at him just as startled. There was a moment of stillness, and then:

"What are you doing down there?"

"What are you doing _up there_?"

Prowl fell silent, but Jazz began to laugh.

"Aw mech," he said, clambering up the railing and hanging in the open air above the river, "I thought you'd pick somewhere, y'know, a little more subtle? Someplace dark and out of the way?" Prowl frowned.

"I don't like all this sneaking around. You said you aren't a lost spark, correct?"

"Yeah, but let's just say I ain't exactly the most popular guy around here. Come on down. It's nice and safe down here."

"I feel a lot safer up here," Prowl said stiffly, but he found his resolve crumbling as Jazz swung himself up and leaned on the railing next to him, offering a spark-melting smile.

"Hm, maybe you're right. It's so much easier t'see how pretty y'are from up here."

Prowl blushed. Brightly. Embarrassed, he tried to turn away, but judging from the happy purr that kicked up in Jazz's engine he had already seen it.

"On second thought, perhaps it would be wise to be somewhere less conspicuous."

"That's the spirit. C'mon, I have something t'show you down here anyway." Oh, Prowl was not sure he liked the sound of that, but when Jazz offered him a hand he warily took it, letting the mech pull him gently over the railing and show him where to put his feet.

"Here, and here. C'mon, it's easy. You just..." And Jazz hopped down with cybercat grace. "One, two. Tada! Your turn."

"I don't think this is very easy," Prowl muttered through gritted teeth. He cautiously lowered himself, feeling around for footholds and slinking along any ledges he found. He had almost reached the bottom when he misjudged his step and slipped off with an alarmed shout.

"Whoops, gotcha." And then there were protective arms wrapped around him, headlights against his back, and warm vents on his plating.

Prowl wriggled free, spark flaring in embarrassment. Jazz just gave him an easy smile and offered his hand again.

"Follow me."

There was something about Jazz, Prowl decided, as he reached forward and took his hand. He seemed to be confused about what was possible and what was impossible. For example, clambering around on the city walls was perfectly fine, as well as scurrying around the underside of bridges. Yet somehow he treated the idea that Prowl might not want to hold his hand as completely outside the bounds of reason. He exuded such confidence, such surety, that Prowl couldn't help but go along with it. Now with his hand wrapped up in Jazz's own, he started to wonder if Jazz didn't have a gift for warping the rules of reality.

"Here," Jazz said, and then light flooded the dark space as Jazz flicked on his headlights. Prowl followed suit and gasped as he was greeted by a world of vivid colour. "Well?” Jazz smiled at him, “Whaddya think?”

What did he think? He reached forward with hesitant fingertips to trace the shapes on the wall. The underside of the bridge, at least this far from sight, was covered in paint. Splashes of gold, blue-green, deep purple, and white danced across the surface, following some secret choreography he didn't understand. In places the art was all graceful arches and intricate little details, but in others it descended to sloppy, dripping doodles and hastily scrawled names. It was somehow more pure in form than an art museum. In fact, as Prowl leaned in close, he noticed that some of the doodles were signed with the same glyphs as the masterpieces. It was the evolution of an artist, the growth from novice to master. Prowl's wings trembled at the sight of it.

"This, this is--" He struggled with his words as Jazz leaned in close, using the opportunity to rest his head on Prowl's shoulder. "This is disgraceful!" he shouted suddenly, causing Jazz to jerk away.

"Wha...?"

"This is vandalism. Completely illegal. The people by the river are offered too much leisure if they think they can get away with this!" He was working himself up now, voice rising to a shrill squeak as his doorwings worked overtime to convey his emotions. Jazz watched him quietly as he ranted, until his doors finally collapsed exhausted on his back, offering only agitated little twitches.

"Y'really believe that?" Jazz said softly.

"It--it's the law," he said helplessly. "What does it matter what I believe?"

"An' who's the law meant to protect? Who are you protectin' by stoppin' people from doodlin' away where it can't even be seen? Is it hurtin' anyone?"

"N-No," Prowl admitted.

"Then why not let it be? No one even knows that it's here."

"I know that it's here," he whispered back.

"So? I'm pretty sure y'can keep a secret, or ya wouldn't be down here with me like this."

"You," Prowl decided suddenly, and with more distress than he cared to admit, "are a terrible influence, and I shouldn't be anywhere near you.”

"Yeah probably," Jazz admitted, but he squeezed Prowl's hand to remind him that they were still connected. Prowl ducked his helm, instinctively hiding his face as it began to flush with colour, though with shame at his outburst or at the hand-holding he could not say. "Does that mean this is over?” Jazz asked sadly. “No more dates?"

"I-I really should--dates?" Prowl's mouth shut like a trap. Did he hear that right? Jazz chuckled, and Prowl did not want to admit how much he'd started to like that sound.

"Naw, I start all my friendships by singing love songs at them from the tops'a walls and then cuddlin' with them under bridges. Don't worry about it."

"That seems very unusual."

"You're not very good with sarcasm, are ya?"

"I-I'm learning."

"Hm? That mean y'wanna keep on goin' with this?" Jazz held up their joined hands, and when Prowl turned to look he saw the charming smile on Jazz's lips. Too charming. He was reversing the impossible again. Knowing he shouldn't, knowing he should right now be in his alt mode and speeding a hundred hics away from here, Prowl still couldn't stop the magnetic pull that drew him in. He leaned forward, Jazz parted his lips, and then they were kissing.

It probably should have been romantic. Everything leading up to it had been. But Prowl felt suddenly nervous and he jammed his lips tightly together and kind of wedged them against Jazz's own. There was a strange vibration against his mouth and he realized Jazz was shaking. He was trying to hold in his laughter.

Prowl pulled away quickly, doorwings high and nervous. Jazz laughed openly now, but it was not malicious. He leaned back into Prowl and gently kissed him between fits of the giggles.

"I got somethin' else ya need to learn."

"It was my first time. You c-can't expect me to have mastered it already!"

"Mm, first kiss? I'm honoured. Here..." And then Prowl got in plenty of practice as they kissed each other gently beneath the bridge well into the night.


	3. Touch

A couple more dates and Prowl felt comfortable enough to let Jazz start picking the meeting places again. This time he found himself in a shady little building in the dark part of Praxus where the enforcers rarely came. Despite the lateness of the hour Prowl had to speed all the way there to make it on time. When he finally arrived he thought he'd come too late, for Jazz was nowhere to be found. Frantically Prowl unfolded from his vehicle mode and looked around, then on a hunch he looked straight up.

Jazz waved at him from where he was sitting on the edge of the rooftop and Prowl scowled up at him.

"Are you ever going to come out and meet me properly?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Jazz grinned, kicking his feet out over the open air. "Now get on up here so I can show ya what's in store for you tonight." Prowl grimaced and began scanning around for an easy way up. There were pipes on the outside of the building that might help, but it looked like he was mostly going to be edging his way along window ledges...

"There's stairs. Inside." Jazz said from above, amusement thick in his tone. "C'mon sweetspark, I'm not gonna make ya climb up anywhere unless I'm down below t'catch ya." Prowl huffed at Jazz's constant flirtation, but he couldn't hide the smile on his lips. Finding the front door open he let himself in and made his way to the stairs.

Up on the rooftop with Jazz he gasped in awe. The moons above were both dark, mere slivers in the sky, letting most of the light come from the stars. And what a dazzling display they made. Usually in the bright part of the city--amongst the towering buildings or inside studying--Prowl rarely got to see a sight like this. It was beyond words.

Unfortunately a somber mood soon started to steal over him. He sat down on the roof with a slump to his wings that had Jazz moving instantly concerned to his side. Prowl felt a careful hand inch between his doorwings and pat soothingly.

"What's wrong sweetspark? Something happen? I did think it was odd that a straight-laced mech like y'self would show up late." Prowl slumped further, whole back getting in on the action as he put his chin in his hands and his elbows on his curled knees.

"Got in trouble in class today," he confessed. He didn't particularly care for the way Jazz wriggled happily at his side, doing a twisting little dance. "It's not funny," he added sharply.

"Aw, wasn't it? That's a shame. Gettin' in trouble is best when you're doin' somethin' funny. I used t'get in hot oil all the time for mah pranks back at the academy."

"You were in the academy? The police academy?" Prowl asked, stunned.

"Mmyeah, but what didja get in trouble for? That's what I wanna know." It was not lost on Prowl how quickly Jazz changed the subject, but he let it drop. Melancholy was eating him up and he savoured the chance to complain about the academy openly for once. Primus knew he'd only get in more trouble if he did that with one of his fellow students.

"I questioned the ethics of one of the laws during lecture today. There must have been a hundred other students there watching as the professor told me to sit down and listen. He said it wasn't in my function to ask questions." Prowl slid his face down into his hands until it was obscured from view. His wings flattened to his back as he tried to make himself as small as possible. "He pulled me aside again after class to lecture me some more. It was awful," he whimpered.

"I'm proud of ya," Jazz said suddenly, fiercely. Prowl snapped his head up.

"What? But--"

"Yeah yeah, 'm a bad influence. F'give me for likin' a mech who can think for himself. Y'did good, Prowl."

"But I'm bad at my function!" Prowl said sharply, his doors lifting as his distress built. "My professor told me so!"

"I'd say that's a pretty decent exchange for bein' a good person," Jazz said, snuggling closer to Prowl. “An' honestly? Hearing ya stand up to authority like that is probably just about the sexiest thing ya coulda told me. Y'know I like a bit of danger.”

“But I'm meant to _be_ an authority one day. I can't just--sexy?” Prowl's spark flared in his chest. Jazz looked up at him with a positively wicked little smile.

“Mmhm. Didn't want t'say it before an' scare ya off, but I find ya hot as the smelter. An' hearin' ya talk like that ain't exactly helpin'.” Jazz was nuzzling along his jawline now, and Prowl tilted his head up to give Jazz better access. Instead he went for Prowl's neck, and Prowl couldn't suppress his moans at the way Jazz began to kiss and nibble enthusiastically.

“You are--such a terrible influence--I would never--ever--have spoken back to my professors before. And I certainly wouldn't--” his fans kicked on as Jazz began to suck on his main fuel line, “be having a celebratory--kiss about it--if it weren't for you.”

“Mm, I wanna do a lot more'n kiss ya, but I guess that's what I do.” Jazz ran the tip of his tongue up Prowl's fuel line as Prowl shuddered with arousal. “I'm good at corrupting the pretty little Praxian police-bots.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Prowl flinched away from his wandering mouth, and when Jazz looked quizzically up at him he slowly raised his hands and pushed a space between them. Jazz went willingly, but his expression was one of myriad questions.

“Prowl?”

“I-I'm sorry. I just need a moment.” Prowl looked away and rubbed a hand over his neck, covering the spot that Jazz had been mouthing just moments before. “I guess I didn't realize this was a common occurrence in your life. It certainly isn't in mine.”

“Aw, Prowl...” Jazz moved hesitantly back into his space, giving Prowl the chance to push him away again. He didn't, so Jazz tested his luck and laid a comforting hand on his arm. “That's not what I meant. I just mean,” and here his bravado came back, a welcome warmth that lit them both, “I'm one-for-one, so I guess that gives me a one-hundred-percent success rate.” Prowl turned and caught the slag-eating grin on Jazz's features. “I'm basically perfect. I've never failed.” Prowl offered a relieved smile back. “Though I gotta attribute at least part of my success t'you.”

“To me?”

“Mmhm. Y'say that you'd never talk back to a professor, and y'say that it's all my influence, but it's not every mech who'd sneak outta the academy at midnight to go on a date with a total stranger an' obvious scoundrel.” Jazz grinned that cocky little grin of his that Prowl couldn't help but love. “Y'got more of an adventurous spark than ya give y'self credit for. I can see it. 's why I stuck with ya. Honestly, I'm not lookin' to throw m'self at the wheels of every pretty little academy bot I spy. Just the one who stopped t'listen to my song, and listen well enough t'catch the hints bein' dropped.”

“I find it hard to imagine that anyone would ignore your music. It's enchanting.”

“Ooh, enchantin'! I like that! Keep feedin' my ego please. I don't think it's had enough.”

“I'm serious, Jazz. I really love your songs.”

“Well in that case,” Jazz rose suddenly to his feet, “I've been negligent.”

“Hm?”

“C'mon. Up. Up. Up on your feet. Y'dance at all, my beautiful?”

“Oh Primus no.”

“Then now you're gonna learn.” And Jazz began to sing. Sometimes the words flowed smoothly from his being, polished and rehearsed dozens if not hundreds of times. Other times they were raw and natural as he made them up on the spot to compliment the mech who had captured his spark. Prowl flushed as he heard the song Jazz sang to him in the helix gardens, and this time he caught the words: an ode to a beautiful mech who stole his way into all of Jazz's thoughts.

As Jazz sang he took Prowl gently by the waist and pulled him close, crooning his sweet words into Prowl's neck as they swayed together. The feeling of Jazz pressed up against him, his EM field fuzzing against Prowl's own, the slide of their plating, and the warmth that radiated from his spark all lulled Prowl into a sense of contentment. He rested his helm on Jazz's shoulder and let himself sink into a dreamlike state, rocking back and forth with Jazz under the stars, the city lights shimmering in the distance and the darkness all around them. It was like they were actually in the sky itself dancing the courting dance of seekers, spinning slowly together with vapor trails twining behind them. That's what he wanted, Prowl realized suddenly. He wanted to make this real the way the seekers did. He wanted to let Jazz know that this wasn't just two mechs sneaking out together to have fun anymore.

“Jazz?”

“Hm?”

“I have something I want to te--something I want to ask...”

“Go ahead sweetspark.”

“I--would you--” Oh no, he was getting embarrassed again. It always happened around Jazz. He ducked his helm down into Jazz's chest and started to mumble.

“You--you know how you joked earlier that you were corrupting all the police-bots? And I was upset? That's because I--well you see I--” Jazz waited patiently while he made a helpless little noise against his plating. “I want this to be us. To be about us. Um, I'm not saying this very well.” So Jazz rescued him by sliding a fingertip under his chin and tilting his head up for a kiss. It was a little messy as they still tried to dance slowly together all the while, slipping from each others lips and occasionally bumping noses, but Jazz's soft laughter revitalized Prowl. “I want to be together with you. Just the two of us. For as long, um, as long as possible.”

“There's an easier way to say that Prowl,” Jazz chuckled.

“Eh?” Prowl looked flustered, doorwings flaring wide with naïve confusion. Jazz couldn't help but chuckle again at how cute it was, and he stroked the side of Prowl's face admiringly for a moment before speaking again.

“I love you.” And then Jazz stopped swaying so that he could draw Prowl in for a deep, unbroken kiss.


	4. Smell

Jazz and Prowl walked down by the mercury river, hand-in-hand, following the slowly winding path. It was later in the night than usual, as due to the holiday Prowl had no classes the next day. The streets here were mostly safe and empty with only a few late-night stragglers coming back from parties to cross their paths. Prowl and Jazz wandered aimlessly, pausing to look in dark shop windows to try and pretend they were having an ordinary date for once.

"Hey I think that one's open!" Jazz said suddenly, excitedly, tugging on Prowl's hand. Prowl looked away from the crystal sculptures he had been admiring in yet another dim shop window and his optics widened to see a light on at the end of the street. "Let's go look!"

Prowl let himself be guided along by the over-eager Jazz, smiling endearingly at the way the restless mech kept quickening his pace and stretching their conjoined arms then slowing and trying to match Prowl before speeding up again. Prowl hesitated when they reached the store front, brow knit into a frown as he looked at the strange assortment of items in the window, but Jazz had reached the end of his patience and tugged them both inside.

Prowl was almost instantly overwhelmed by the scents in the shop. In Praxus everything smelled pretty much the same. The streets of Praxus were clean, and only the smell of burning energon from the traffic left any trace scent in the city. Here though there were all kinds of unusual aromas, forcing Prowl to stop as he attempted to catalogue them and repeatedly failed.

"It's an import shop," Jazz grinned, prodding Prowl eagerly. "Like nothing y'ever seen on Cybertron. C'mon, let's look around!" And before Prowl could protest he was pulled deeper into the shop.

Jazz had a taste for the darker parts of the shop and he kept delving deeper and deeper into the store, almost losing them amidst the overstuffed shelves. After a while Prowl couldn't take any more of the weird masks made of shed Insectoid skin or the strange boxes that rattled when they passed by. He made an excuse that he'd seen something interesting back at the front and struggled free of Jazz's grip.

 _Safe here,_ Prowl sighed as he stood back in the well-lit portion of the shop showcasing mostly guidebooks for alien planets and a few tasteful conversation pieces for the average mech's living room. Prowl eyed a twisting silver sculpture and was satisfied to find it almost exactly like something you'd see here on Cybertron. He leaned down to examine the price tag when his doorwings felt a ripple of air behind him, alerting him to his lover's presence.

"Jazz, come look at this," he said softly, but then frowned when he got no answer. "Jazz?" He turned around, and then jumped at the strange smiling yellow face scant hands-widths from his own. With his fuel pump hammering and optics wide Prowl backed up a pace, strange bug-like eyes followed his movements. Oh Primus. His vents stalled. It was an alien creature. An illegal alien immigrant right here under his nose.

"You like it?" the creature asked in an accented voice. It was at least--Prowl decided as he lowered his doorwings warily--a pleasant musical voice: soft and devoid of aggression. Prowl decided to respond in kind.

"Yes. It's fascinating," Prowl said clumsily, his fuel pump still beating erratically as he turned to the sculpture so as not to stare.

"Would you like me to show you how it works?" the creature asked, and Prowl's doorwings canted curiously.

"Works?"

The strange being leant down, extended one graceful digit, and carefully spun a tiny crank on the side. The sculpture came to life under Prowl's astonished gaze, metal parts coiling and turning and twining together. It reminded him of that night on the roof with Jazz, slowly spinning in each others arms. His doorwings relaxed as he recalled that night fondly, and he soon found himself smiling as he watched the pieces fit together in new and unexpected ways.

"Hey Prowl," said the subject of his thoughts suddenly, "I found some really neat stuff. Y'gonna wanna see--oh, hello Botanica." Jazz emerged from the rows of shelves and smiled at the being by Prowl's side. It bobbed its head gracefully.

"Jazz, what an unexpected pleasure. I hardly see you in Praxus anymore."

"That's the point, Bo. I do my best not to be seen. 's what I do."

"Well you know you are always welcome here," Botanica smiled. "The riverfolk don't ask questions after all. We love everyone equally who graces our doorsteps."

"I know," Jazz smiled, "That's why I love it here. Now if you'll excuse me," he came forward and caught Prowl's hand once more. "I'd like to borrow this one here. I want to show him the--the back room."

"Of course," Botanica said, sliding smoothly out of Prowl's path. He started to follow Jazz, but a soft noise from Botanica drew his attention back. "Would you like me to set this one aside for you?" Botanica gestured to the sculpture. He hesitated a moment, then nodded.

"Please." And then Jazz was pulling him back through the store again to the darker places beyond. Prowl grew tenser the further they went, keeping his optics fixed firmly on Jazz's back to avoid looking at the increasingly strange and horrific sights around them. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, that he wanted to plead with Jazz to go back, they stopped at the far wall. He was surprised to note that it was transparent, though the space beyond was strangely foggy and so Prowl still couldn't see in. Jazz opened a door in the wall and stepped through, and before he could protest Prowl was dragged inside. They stood for a moment in a small room where a strange rush of heat flooded them both, and then Jazz opened another door and they went into the space beyond.

Prowl gasped as the strange aromas that lingered in the shop blossomed all around them. Jazz guided him through the dewy air and knelt on the strangely soft ground. At his feet were a series of strange thin purple discs growing out of the ground in clusters of three with a shimmering center of pearly white.

"Plants," Jazz said, "alien plants." Prowl's doorwings perked sharply.

"No Jazz, this is--there are really strong laws about importing alien lifeforms! I-I'm sorry. I tried to overlook your alien friend, but this is too much. It isn't about the law, it's about the danger these things pose to our planet. They really should be confiscated to avoid--why are you laughing at me?" Because Jazz had collapsed in sudden mirth, narrowly avoiding crushing the delicate lifeforms as he rolled around in hysterics.

"Prowl, oh Prowl, my dear sweet Prowl. Bo isn't an alien! You thought--ahaha--oh I'm so sorry. Ya musta thought I was involved in some weird immigrant smuggling ring or somethin'. Ahaha!"

"The thought did cross my mind," Prowl said dryly, waiting for Jazz to come back to himself. With a wheeze of his vents Jazz finally righted himself, patting the soft ground in apology for rolling around on it.

"Botanica's an organic biologist. Cybertronian. Goes to other planets and learns all about the native species, then brings 'em back here. Not an alien, I promise ya."

"I--I'm sorry." Prowl hid his face as it flushed with heat. "I just assumed he--"

"She."

"Oh Primus," Prowl whined, his embarrassment deepening. Jazz stood and stroked his helm lovingly, planting a tiny kiss on his chevron.

"It's okay. Really," Jazz said soothingly. "Actually, what I love about ya is even though y'make mistakes, y'always do your best not to repeat 'em. You've had a lotta relearnin' to do. I came in an' really shook up your world, didn't I? But you've adapted. You've changed your point of view an' I'm so proud of ya. When we first met ya were always quick t'jump to the law, but now look at ya. Standin' here in a room full of plants, in a little ol' import store with me. Love you so much Prowl."

"I love you too Jazz." And they kissed each other softly, hidden away by the swirling mist where no one could find them.

When they'd finally satisfied their need for each other, Jazz lead Prowl through the greenhouse slowly, pointing out the holographic information cards Botanica had set near each specimen. Prowl touched a card and it burst to life, feeding him facts and uses for the various species here. Some, like the waving golden threads that touched him almost curiously as he passed, were used by the natives as building materials. Others, like the multi-coloured tubes of varying size growing out of the earth, were used as living instruments and made a musical whistling noise when you blew gently down their shafts. A few--like the strange cluster of silvery egg-like buds--even had Cybertronian applications, for when they bloomed they would release a fine powder that halted the spread of rust. Then there were ones like the orange star-shaped blossoms almost the length of his arm in diameter that had no known practical purpose and just looked and smelled wonderful. These Jazz paid special attention to, reminding Prowl that beauty had its own worth. He'd stoop by them and invite Prowl to drink up the scent, and by the time they finally made it back to the entrance his scent catalogue was filled to bursting with new information.

“I need to stay longer in the decontamination room,” Jazz said sheepishly as they entered the intermediate room. “Need to rinse off the dirt I got on my back when I rolled around on the ground.” He pointed to an overhead shower. “Why don't ya go on ahead? I'll catch up with ya in a klik.” And so when the heat in the room had cleansed Prowl's plating of all foreign traces he went on, moving quickly past the creepy alien memorabilia and making his way back to the front. He found Botanica waiting for him at the check-out counter so he spent the time purchasing the interesting sculpture that had caught his eye. He had just finished tucking it into his subspace when Jazz reappeared and wordlessly pushed something across the counter. Prowl turned to look, but Jazz distracted him by pointing up at a certificate on the wall.

"There ya go Prowl." And sure enough there was a permit to import foreign species. But as Prowl looked closer at it he frowned.

"It's out of date."

Botanica hummed to herself as she innocently slid a many-limbed statue to cover up the corner of the permit, obscuring the date from view. She put a thin finger to her lips and smiled at them. Prowl said nothing.

Once they bid their goodbyes to Botanica and made it back out to the street, they found the first light of dawn coming up and the riverfolk emerging from their homes. Botanica flipped the closed sign on her shop behind them, apparently a nocturnal dweller. Jazz and Prowl stood for a moment, enjoying the early morning atmosphere, when suddenly bells began to chime from nearby: a merry, skipping tune. The riverfolk moved to the banks, and when the song ended they each drew out a transluscent, colourful orb and tossed it into the sky. They hovered there, just above head-level, painting the river with a stained-glass glow. Prowl clutched Jazz's arm, gasping. He'd never seen anything like it.

“Happy Primus Day,” Jazz said with a smile. “The riverfolk do it a little different, but I thought you'd like--” But Prowl silenced him thoroughly with a passionate kiss. When they reemerged, flushed and happy, Prowl was smiling brighter than Jazz had ever seen before. If he'd thought Prowl was beautiful before he was stunning now, painted with the reflected lights and whole face lit from the joy in his spark.

“Jazz, thank you. This is wonderful.” He hestitated a moment, wings fluttering, and then he drew the sculpture out of his subspace. “I-I bought this for you. Happy Primus Day.” Jazz took it curiously, turning it over in his hands, and Prowl reach forward and gently turned the crank. Jazz gasped with delight when it began to spin, and he kissed Prowl soundly on the lips.

"I love it. Reminds me of the time I got ya to dance." He smiled, a devious glint appearing in his visor. "Wonder if I'll get t'show ya another kind of dance sometime."

"Jazz!" Prowl turned away to hide his embarrassment, but his wings fluttered and betraying his interest. Jazz laughed his carefree laugh and then he was holding something out to Prowl to make him turn back around.

"I got ya somethin' too. I figured ya wouldn't approve of a real one." And Prowl turned to see a delicately sculpted flower made of thin looping strands of metal. As Prowl took it gently in his hands he was astonished to find the air suddenly flooded with its scent: a sweet, alluring aroma to always remind him of the soft kisses they shared in the greenhouse.

"How...?" Prowl asked.

"I don't know fully how it works, but somethin' in the magnetic field triggers the scent catalogue to open and replay its scent. 'Course I had to actually get ya in there and smell it before it would work on ya. T'anyone else it's just a plain metal sculpture." He grinned. "Another secret for your collection."

"I _have_ accumulated quite a few." He grinned a very Jazz-like grin. "Bad influence."

“Speaking of, it seems I kept ya out all night. What a shame. Guess you're gonna hafta skip class today.” He grinned teasingly.

“Jazz, there are no classes today. It's Primus Day.”

“Oh Scrap! Well there goes my evil plan.”

“I take it back. You're not a bad influence. You are the worst influence.” But as Jazz collapsed against him in a fit of the giggles, and Prowl felt the purr of his engine against his plating, and he held him there on the banks of the lit-up river, he couldn't really put any belief in those words.


	5. Taste

"What's wrong?" Jazz asked as Prowl stared dejectedly out at the acid rain. They were huddled at the entrance of a tunnel, and until Prowl had slumped down unhappily Jazz had been making the most of their date getting rained out by singing in the echoing space and laughing at the way the sound warped when it came back to him. He'd been having a thrilling time as usual, but Prowl had just sat down, sighed, and stared grumpily at the pelting raindrops. "Aww Prowl, c'mon. We can still have a fun night! Hey I got an idea! Let's sing a duet!"

"No," Prowl sighed, leaning back against the smooth metal walls. "I don't feel like it tonight."

"Something's eatin' ya, more'n the acid rain. No pun intended." And for once he looked somber as he settled down next to Prowl. "Y'wanna tell me what it is? Finals gettin' to ya?"

"A little," Prowl admitted, "It's hard to sneak out at night and be well rested the next day." He sighed long and low as he looked between the raindrops to the city lights beyond. "Why can't we be normal?" He said quietly, causing Jazz to startle.

"Whoa, what? I thought ya loved our little adventures? Ya told me so yourself. C'mon, after finals are over we'll get back to our usual shenanigans an' not hafta worry again. It'll be fine."

"Jazz, it won't be fine." Prowl turned to look at him fully, doors and voice high with distress. "I'm graduating, Jazz. That's what this is all about. I'm going off into the real world as a police officer. I can't afford to keep sneaking around like this. It's not going to work!" He collapsed in on himself now, curling up to try and contain the emotions that flooded out of his body, but there was no stopping them. They poured out every surface, from his trembling wings to his over-bright optics and his hiccuping vents. Jazz put an arm around him, quiet in the wake of Prowl's meltdown.

"I could--we could try," he said at last, and Prowl looked at him dazedly through flickering optics. "Try to be normal. I can't guarantee it'll work, but I'll give it a shot." And then he kissed the side of Prowl's helm and whispered his idea to him in the darkness.

The next time they met it was evening, but not so late in the evening that everyone had retired for the night, nor hidden away in the quiet dark places where no one bothered to go. Prowl stood anxiously outside a semi-popular student café scanning the crowd inside for his lover. The more he thought about it the more he felt like this was a bad idea, but it was too late to back out now. He stood restlessly, doorwings twitching and hands worrying over each other as time ticked on. Finally there was a tap on his shoulder wheel and a familiar voice whispering behind him.

"Hey love."

Prowl turned and gaped at the figure standing behind him. The first thing he noticed was the naked optics, bright and blue and a little nervous, betraying his confident smile. Doorwings fidgeted uncomfortably on his back and a white chevron brought light to his usually dark helm. Prowl touched it curiously and it shifted beneath his fingers.

"Careful," Jazz said, fixing it. "It ain't on there all that well. Shoulda used stronger magnets." He fiddled with it for a bit and then got it to stay. "Well, whatcha think? Almost fade right into the crowd now, don't I?"

"These stick out a little," Prowl murmured, fingering one of the sensor horns while Jazz purred appreciatively. "Not a common helm mod in these parts."

"Did my best with what I had."

"What I want to know," Prowl held his hand up to the doorwings, but they twitched away convincingly, "is how you managed _these_."

"Wha...? Sweetspark, those are my wings. I didn't tell you I had 'em?" Prowl shook his head, stunned into silence. "Hardly ever have 'em out because they make it harder t'sneak around. Too distinct an outline for any wanderin' eyes and they get in the way when I'm slippin' through tight spaces." He offered Prowl a seductive smile. "Taught ya many things, but I guess ya haven't had the chance to thoroughly discover my body yet. We'll have to put it on our to-do list." Prowl snorted through his vents and turned away from the lecherous mech.

"You are incorrigible."

"I'm just pleased I can still fluster ya after all this time," Jazz purred, petting between Prowl's twitching wings.

"Come on," Prowl said, pulling away before his blush got any worse. "Let's get something to eat and then you can flirt as shamelessly as you want."

"Sounds like a plan!" Jazz flashed a grin, but with his optics uncovered there was no way to hide how he glanced nervously at the café interior. It was bright, cozy, and completely filled with students. Talking and laughter floated out through the slightly ajar doorway, sending Jazz's wings aquiver. "Tell ya what," he said in that easy tone that almost made Prowl believe he'd imagined his nerves, "It looks all full up in there. I'll grab us a table out here if you order for us, yeah?"

"You want to sit out here in the dark?" Prowl said dubiously. Jazz shrugged.

"Why not? We've done it plenty of times. Just grab me whatever looks good." Prowl nodded, but as he turned away he sighed. He'd never found out exactly why Jazz was so skittish. Every time the conversation lead that way Jazz would expertly steer it away. While waiting in line Prowl wondered if he was ever going to fully understand the strange mech who sat up on walls and captured sparks with his song.

Returning outside with two cups of sweet energon tea and a large slice of oil cake balanced on a tray, Prowl found Jazz had picked the shadiest and most out-of-the-way table the café exterior had to offer. He wasn't surprised. He tried to hide his disappointment as he laid out their places for them. Jazz may have made an effort for Prowl's sake, but it was clear that they never were going to be a normal couple. Prowl sat and buried his fork in the cake and then took a large scoop of it into his mouth. The sweetness did not do much to mask the bitterness he felt.

"Pff--ack," Jazz said suddenly across the table, making a face as he forced himself to swallow the gulp of tea. "Did you--did you put extra sweetener in the sweet tea?!"

"Oh," Prowl lowered his wings guiltily. "I must have mixed them up. Here." He slid his drink across the table. Jazz took a grateful swig, but then his expression turned sour.

"Blech. Yuck. Oh Primus, that one's worse. Why would ya sweeten already sweet tea?"

"I--I must have done it automatically. My apologies."

"You--" Jazz cracked a grin at him, "really have one pit of a sweet tooth, huh? Must be why ya like me."

"Hm."

"Aw Prowl, love," Jazz's face fell as he studied Prowl's gloomy expression. "I can't tell if you're mad at me or worried about losin' me. Talk t'me. Give me somethin'. You'll be kickin' yourself later if ya waste this time bein' mopey. Please." And Jazz reached across the table and took his hand.

Prowl sighed as he laced their fingers together. Jazz was right, of course. There was no use ruining what little time they did have together. He forced a smile onto his face and strangely it actually did make him feel a little better.

"I'm sorry Jazz. You're right."

"Hey," Jazz's other hand came around and laid gently on their joined ones. He trapped Prowl's hand between them, stroking softly and warming both sides. "I know y'said ya want t'be together as long as possible. I remember. That's what you said." He had a look of concentration now as he watched their joined hands. "But I'm not satisfied with that. I love you Prowl, a lot. I don't wanna end things here. I dunno what I can do, but I'm gonna do everythin' I can to make sure this doesn't end here. Okay?"

"Okay," Prowl whispered, feeling his optics start to brighten as he fought down the hiccuping in his vents. "I--I don't want to lose you either Jazz. I love you." And then they both stood at the same time, met in the middle, and kissed each other deeply. Prowl opened his mouth to Jazz's questing tongue, and he tasted the sweetness from the tea between them as their tongues slipped over and around each other. It only lasted a precious moment, before Jazz had to pull away because he'd started laughing again. Prowl didn't know why, but he was caught up in the infectious laughter, pressing his helm to Jazz's and not caring as he knocked the chevron clean off.

"Cake, oh Primus you taste of cake. You have the most amazingly ridiculous sweet tooth and I never even knew."

"I could taste the tea," Prowl giggled, "on your tongue."

"Ohh, no wonder you were gettin' so into that." Jazz pulled away and grinned lasciviously at him, causing Prowl to fall back into his chair as a fresh wave of laughter knocked him down.

"Oh Primus, it's not _that_ kind of sweet craving!"

"No? But it does give me a few ideas..." and Jazz bent to pick up Prowl's abandoned fork, licking a slow trail up it and catching a dollop of frosting on the tip of his tongue. He pulled it into his mouth and for a moment Prowl's vents threatened to turn on, but then Jazz made a face and coughed.

"Ugh. Wow. That sweet tooth is out of control." And then they were laughing again.

While they were lost in their talking and laughing two police cars pulled up outside the café and transformed into robot mode.

"Just going inside to get a quick drink. You want anything?" The other cop shook her head and waved her partner off. She settled in a nearby chair to enjoy the peace and quiet of the early evening. However it was not quiet, and she soon found her optics drawn to the pair laughing at one of the outdoor tables nearby. At first glance they were your average pair of young Praxians, but upon closer inspection...

When her partner came back out the café she motioned over to them.

"Isn't that--"

"Oh Primus. Is that Marshal?"

At the sound of his name Jazz looked up, startled. He caught the eye of the two police-bots frowning in his direction and his wings went rigid with sudden terror. Prowl stopped laughing and glanced behind him, instantly concerned. There was a moment of silence, then--

"Hey!" The cops shouted as Jazz bolted. The blue-and-white female cop was up on her feet and sprinting after him in half an astrosecond. Prowl could only watch helplessly as they transformed and sped off into the darkness, tires squealing, for in a moment a hand clapped hard on his shoulder preventing him from fleeing.

"Well then. Academy bot I take it?" The other cop said grimly. "I hate to ruin your finals week kid, but I've got a few questions for you. Please come with me."


	6. Live

Prowl stood diploma in hand with the entire class clapping around him, but inside he felt so numb. He shook hands with the people who appeared before him, but none were the face he wanted to see. When he took his seat again it was only the actions of those around him that stopped him from falling into listless apathy. He forced himself to clap for the others, to smile and congratulate them after the ceremony, but when everyone left he remained standing alone in the auditorium feeling empty and lifeless.

He hadn't seen or heard from Jazz since that day.

_"How well do you know that mech you were with?" The officer asked when they were settled inside his office. Prowl took a page from Jazz's book and shrugged lightly._

_"We just met."_

_"You seemed close."_

_"Not really. He was charming. We started flirting. He didn't really talk about himself though. I'm guessing he's in some kind of trouble?"_

_"Could say that." The officer leaned forward watching him closely. Prowl tried not to flinch under that intense golden gaze. "So he didn't say much about himself? Nothing at all?"_

_"Um," Prowl pretended to search back through his memory while he wracked his processor for any conceivable lie. "He said his name was Chase. Student at the police academy. Couple classes below me. He complained that finals were hitting him hard. He just wanted to go out and have some fun." Prowl shrugged again. "That's all I got from him really. He seemed more interested in learning about me."_

_"I see. You're a student too, then?"_

_"Senior."_

_"Ah. That was close."_

_"Pardon?"_

_"Let me fill you in on a little information. That mech, his name's not Chase. It's Marshal. He usually wears a blue visor so be on the lookout for that. He was kicked out of the police academy and barred entry to the city of Praxus. If you see him again do not hesitate to inform the nearest station immediately. He does not have permission to be on this side of the wall." The officer laced his fingers together to make a cradle for his chin, but despite his relaxed posture his intense stare did not waver. "It would be bad for you to be seen with this mech again. You do not want to jeopardize your position so close to graduation day." Finally his optics flickered away, dropping to the file on his desk. "Prowl was it? I believe that's all I have to ask you right now. You may go."_

Prowl sat heavily in one of the chairs as the weight of that day dragged him down. His head went into his hands and he vented slowly, trying to let his grief out in short bursts to contain it. It threatened to overwhelm him, to leave his sobbing and aching and lonely in this empty auditorium.

He'd always known that Jazz was hiding something. It just never seemed to matter enough for Prowl to demand answers. They'd never been in any real danger during all their sneaking around. There was just enough risk to make things exciting without actually causing him real fear. His nervousness over Jazz's secrets had faded away after their first few dates, and after that things had been nothing but reckless fun.

He should have asked Jazz about it before they tried going out in public together. If he had known what to expect he could have--could have--

Prowl made a sound of grief. No, he didn't know what he could have done. He still was trying to be a police-bot and Jazz was a wanted mech. It was doomed from the start. He should never have listened to the singing mech on the wall, because the moment he fell in love with him he was trapped. Now he couldn't imagine a life of happiness without Jazz. Maybe it was foolish infatuation talking, but he needed Jazz. He needed him to be there by his side. Prowl let out a strangled sob as his sorrow threatening to swallow him whole.

"Now that's just cruel. Who's gone an' hurt ya like this? Must be a real glitch."

"Jazz?" Prowl raised his head, wondering if he'd imagined his voice. He turned slowly, expecting to see an empty auditorium and all his dreams crushed, but there he was, gliding down the aisle like a dream. "Jazz!" Prowl struggled to his feet. He knocked his chair over in the process, but he paid it no mind. Jazz put a hushing finger to his lips, but underneath he wore a roguish grin.

"Shh. In case ya hadn't noticed I'm not exactly meant t'be here." Prowl struggled over his fallen chair and ran to him, and Jazz threw his arms wide and caught Prowl in his embrace. "I know, I know. I was an aft makin' ya worry like that. I'm sorry." And he held Prowl as his restraint crumbled and he descended into sobs.

"Thought I'd lost you," he mumbled into Jazz's chest between choked vents. "Thought I'd never see you again."

"I'd never be able t'forgive myself if that happened," Jazz replied. "I love ya too much t'break your spark like that." And he stroked Prowl's helm to bring him down.

"How did you get away?" Prowl asked when he finally had calmed enough to draw away from Jazz. "What happened? How--"

"I'll explain everythin' love. I promise. Just not here. I'm, uh, _really_ not allowed t'be here." He glanced over his shoulder, suddenly paranoid. "Meet up again later, like usual?" Prowl nodded, and they exchanged hurried whispers between them, and then hurried kisses before they parted ways.

They ended up meeting in a forgotten park in the less wealthy part of town. There'd been an outdoor theatre here once, the half-shell that covered the stage still standing. The park was poorly maintained by Praxian standards, the paint flaking away on the old park benches and the fountain long dry. It was still clean--all of Praxus was--but it was also empty and sad. Prowl arrived first, glad they didn't have any of their dates here. It was far too desolate for even Jazz's bright spark to light it.

Or so he thought, for as soon as Jazz got there he began to hop excitedly from one foot to the other.

"This is great! I've never been here before. How didja find it? Look, there's even a stage!"

"Jazz..."

"No, I know, I haven't forgotten. C'mon, let's go sit up on the stage." Jazz took Prowl by the hand and led him over, pulling him up on the rise and then looking out over the benches lined before them. Prowl felt twitchy even though the benches were empty, as though there were rows of invisible watchers silently judging him. Jazz loved it though. He beamed out across the desolate park like he was standing in front of a room full of people all cheering for him.

"I love stages," he started, and Prowl thought for a moment that he was changing the subject again, but then Jazz continued. "Ever since I was first sparked I knew I wanted to stand up an' entertain people. The first time I heard a laugh, the first time I heard a cheer, I knew I wanted to be responsible for that." Jazz sighed wistfully and fished around in his subspace. He drew out a nice-looking bottle which he uncorked and took a long swig from. Once satisfied, he continued. "I didn't have much choice in the matter though. I was made-to-order, sparked to be a police-bot just like you. The difference was that I wasn't happy like that." Jazz smiled ruefully as he took another sip. "Ya do well in the role Prowl. But it wasn't for me. I rebelled every step of the way. I skipped classes, I avoided my homework, an' I was always runnin' off. I came down to the river and that's when I first heard it. Music."

"I was captivated. I needed to hear more. Well, y'can guess where this is goin'. In this functionist society I was an MTO who didn't want to do what I was built for. Things went bad. I got kicked outta the academy, then I got kicked outta Praxus. Bet ya didn't know that could happen, huh? I sure didn't, until it did." Prowl stared, optics wide. "That's the thing about this place. Notice how clean it all is? Even down here in the poor districts? It's 'cause they sweep all the icky bits out. Unemployment doesn't happen here. It's against the law to be unemployed in Praxus."

"I-I did know that actually," Prowl confessed. "It's the law I got in trouble for speaking out against." Jazz stared at him a long moment, and then he whispered urgently.

"Prowl, I would take ya right here on this stage, right now."

"Jazz!" His wings perked up in shock, and he just knew he was blushing again. Somehow Jazz could always manage it. Always.

"I know, I know. Place is too public. But I would." He flopped down, letting his feet dangle off the edge of the stage. He sipped from his bottle slowly and thoughtfully as he finished his story.

"Anyway, that's the gist of things. Kicked out 'cause no one would hire an academy reject. They marked up my ID to let the world know I was outcast from Praxus. I figured I wouldn't be able to make it anywhere after that." He sighed and took a long swig, memories flooding back. "Thankfully the world outside is a bit more forgivin' than I thought. I did a bit of work here, a bit of work there, and sang to myself to make it all better. Guess I got pretty good at that, because some old mech invited me to sing at his bar one night. That's what I do now. It's not glamorous exactly, but I get by singin' pretty little words where I can, an' I enjoy it too. Lot happier than if I'd just gone along with what everyone else wanted of me." He smiled over at Prowl when he settled next to him and passed the bottle over. Prowl sniffed it. It was engex, and quite strong, but as he took a sip he found the taste surprisingly pleasant and began to drink earnestly.

“Never did stop missin' Praxus though, even though Praxus stopped carin' about me. I used to sneak over the wall just to look at it, y'know? An' when I felt bold enough I started sneakin' around the city at night too. Got pretty good at it, an' got pretty good at givin' the cops the slip. Honestly, avoidin' that police-bot the other night wasn't all that difficult. She was fast, yeah, but I know all the little hidey holes. I learned all that durin' my reckless youth. Not that I ever stopped bein' a reckless youth.” He chuckled a little, but there was a thread of pain underneath. Prowl wordlessly handed the bottle back and Jazz took another swig.

"So anyway, where do we go from here? Y'know the whole story now. You're all graduated--congratulations on that, by the way. It's something I couldn't do." He tipped the bottle at Prowl as though to toast him and then took a long drink. "Yeah, so you're all graduated an' I'm just an outcast busking for change between gigs. I can keep sneakin' in here t'see you--an' believe me I want to--but one day I'm gonna get caught." Prowl snorted suddenly and snatched the bottle away from him. Jazz stared at him in surprise.

"You've had too much of this if you can't even see the obvious solution here." Prowl took a drink of it to keep it out of Jazz's grabbing hands. "It's quite simple. You cannot enter Praxus without disobeying the law, but I have no such restrictions. I am free to go where I please, freshly graduated and in need of a job. All I have to do is seek one outside of Praxus and we will be fine.”

"But Prowl--" Jazz ceased trying to playfully steal the bottle back for a moment, turning serious. "Look, I get what you're sayin' an' all, but why would ya wanna leave Praxus? It's not exactly the easiest place to get back into once you're out, believe me. Ya really sure y'wanna do that? Praxus is your home."

"Jazz," Prowl drained the rest of the bottle to keep it away from him and then set it down between them. "You've made a lot of sacrifices for me so far. Every time we met you ran the risk of arrest. And!" He held his hand up to stop Jazz as he started to protest. "I know I risked my career too, but that's not the same thing. I didn't have to walk the streets afraid to even be seen. You've done all of this for me and asked for nothing in return. Well it's time for me to start giving back. Jazz, if you would have me, I would go outside the city walls and try to start a life with you. What do you say?" Jazz's seriousness melted away like frost as a warm smile rose over his features.

"Now that's somethin' I can drink to," he said, reaching for the abandoned bottle. "Prowl, I would have you by my side every day when I wake up. I would have you through the good times an' the bad. I would hold you forever, an' never let go. Here's to us. Here's to starting a life together!" He raised the bottle above his head to toast the very universe for bringing them together, but then he stopped and blinked up at the bottle in confusion. "Wait a moment. There's none left!"

"That's because you drank it all," Prowl said, unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

"You drank at least half of it! That--that was really expensive engex. Really strong too." Jazz paused, thinking hard. "I reckon we're a bit tipsy, then."

"Why did you even have engex on you in the first place?" Prowl asked, baffled.

"Er, well, I was going to toast your graduation with it, but I kinda needed a drink when I was talkin' about my past and stuff. Not my favourite subject." Jazz looked sheepish. "Kinda got carried away I guess? Wow, the whole bottle. We really went through that thing."

"I don't think we're safe to drive."

"Mm, probably not." Jazz flopped back, staring up thoughtfully at the shell over the stage for a moment. Then he said, "Hey Prowl, what kinda drunk are ya?"

"I don't know. I've never been overcharged before." Jazz wiggled gleefully.

"Hey, what if you're a singin' drunk? Ooh, or a dancin' drunk?"

"I don't think so."

"Aw, please? Y'always were too shy to do it before. I wanna hear ya belt it out! C'mon, we're drunk! What's the point if we don't get up to stupid things?" Prowl sighed, helpless in the face of Jazz's impossible logic.

"Fine, but I only know one song."

"Ooh, I wanna hear it! Sing me Prowl's one song!" So Prowl took a deep vent and began.

"The crystals glow blue upon midnight,  
Away from the watchers in daylight.  
I'll meet you down there later tonight,  
And kiss you there under the moonlight."

Jazz was quiet for the first verse, for once in his life robbed of the words to say. He opened his mouth but all that came out was a sound too fragile to survive. Slowly he allowed himself to join in on the next line. Prowl lay down next to him and their fingers laced alongside their voices, as together they sang the one song--the only song--that they both knew by heart.

"Bright optics look at me unblinking,  
Within them I find myself sinking,  
I wish I could glean what you're thinking.  
Are they my words you're silently drinking?"

The rest of the words became a bit muffled, as a drunken Jazz tried to kiss him, laugh, cry, and sing all at the same time.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun Fact: Jazz's "original" name in this story is a reference to the terrible Omni Productions dub of the original cartoon. Oh Omni. Without you the world would be a whole lot less hilarious.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing! It was a wild 48 hours! Thanks for sharing a piece of that. Let's do this again sometime!


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